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PRESENTED BY" 







Nec-Naiama 

The Grove Play 

BOHEMIAN CLUB 



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I SIX 




NEC-NATAMA 



(COMRADESHIP) 



A FOREST PLAY 



Text by J. WILSON SHIELS 
Music by UDA WALDROP 



Being the Thirty-seventh Annual Midsummer High Jinks 
of the Bohemian Club of San Francisco and the Twelfth 
Grove Play, as enacted by Members of the Club at 
the Bohemian Grove in Sonoma County, California, the 
Eighth Night of August, Nineteen Hundred C& Fourteen 



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Press of 

The Blair-Murdocl Company 



DRAMATIS PERSONAE 



PROLOGUE 



Priest Fred Herr 

White Man A. Joullin 

Love- Woman Harris Allen 

Hate- Woman Geo. de Long 

Torturers Harry Bates, Capt. Jack Fletcher 

Fire Lighters A. F. Lawton, C. Bundschu 

Spear Thrower J. Landfield 

Arrow Aimer Stewart Rawlings 

Knife Man G. S. Pomeroy 

War-dancers: 

D. G. Volkmann M. B. Bowman 

W. G. Volkmann A. C. Nahl 

Gurney Newlin R. Schilling 

H. A. Schmidt D. S. Clinton 

Frank Owen F. G. Noyes 

Dean Witter T. C. Van Ness 

Challen Parker Roy Somers 

A. C. Parsons Ralston White 

L. T. Ryone C. A. Gilbert 

Other Hate Braves: 

C. H. Lamberton S. Haskins 

Irving Lundborg Lt. Com. Woodward 

Geo. Stoddard F. Findley 

Capt. Brees 



PLAY-PROPER 



LOVE-LONGING INDIANS: 

They who long for the return of the Love-Woman. They 
are delicate in type and contrast the Hate-Indians, who 
follow the Great-Hate Chief and live in Strife. 

Great High Priest, Ralph L. Phelps. 
Aged Priest, H. McD. Spencer. 
First Priest, E. T. Houghton. 
Second Priest, Francis Bruguiere. 
Third Priest, H. B. Blatchly. 
Fourth Priest, W. Robinson. 
Priest with Song, C. Bulotti. 

First Guard of the Sacred Rock, Scott Hendricks. 
Second Guard of the Sacred Rock, E. L. Taylor. 
The Neophyte, A. W. Sperry. 



Chorus: 



C. E. Anderson 
A. A. Arbogast 
R. M. Battison 
C. Bundschu 
C. W. Burks 
P. S. Carlton 
R. L. Countryman 
W. W. Davis 
T. G. Elliott 
C. E. Engvick 
C. J. Evans 
G. Farley 
R. E. Fisher 
Oscar Frank 
P. D. Gaskill 
W. E. Hague 



A. F. Lawton 
E. C. Little 
R. I. Lynas 
E. H. McCandlish 
H. McCurrie 
M. McCurrie 
John McEwing 
W. A. Mitchell 
P. J. Mohr 
W. P. Nielson 
Wm. Olney 
C. D. Pinkham 
G. Purlenky 
G. D. Reynolds 
J. J. Rhea 
E. W. Roland 



J. R. Harry Benj. Romaine 

R. B. Heath J. D. Ruggles 

A. G. Heunisch C. A. Smith 

Wm. Hooke B. M. Stitch 

R. E. G. Keene Mark White 

W. R. Kneiss F. E. Wilkins 

M. O. Williams A. Y. Wood 

R. L. Oliver H. Perry 

HATE-INDIANS: 

They follow Hate and Strife and show no fellowship. 

Great-Hate Chief Wm. P. Horn 

Second Chief R. M. Hotaling 

The Silent One Frank Corbusier 

The Runner J. B. Brady 

Guard of the River Trail Ben Stitch 

Guard of the Trail of the Setting Sun 

C. H. Lamberton 

War-dancers: 

D. G. Volkmann M. B. Bowman 

W. G. Volkmann A. C. Nahl 

Gurney Newlin R. Schilling 

H. A. Schmidt D. S. Clinton 

Frank Owen F. G. Noyes 

Dean Witter T. C. Van Ness 

Challen Parker Roy Somers 

A. C. Parsons Ralston White 

L. T. Ryone C. A. Gilbert 

Other Hate-Braves: 

Harry Bates Stewart Rawlings 

Capt. Brees E. B. Pomeroy 

F. Findley Jack Fletcher 

Harris Allen Lt. Com. Woodward 

Capt. Harry Howland J. Landfield 

Geo. Stoddard Irving Lundborg 
S. Haskins 

Indian Boys — Philip Beckeart, Jr., Willie Shiels. 

8 



HIDDEN SINGERS: 

"The Song of the Grove," Mackenzie Gordon. 
"The Song of the Stake," Mackenzie Gordon, 
"Tree-Top Song," selected members of chorus. 

THE WATER-SPIRITS: 

"Dance of the Pool" 

(Produced by Geo. B. de Long.) 

Geo. B. de Long A. J. Hayes 

Geo. Hammersmith A. W. Hamilton 

Geo. C. Leib Russell L. Countryman 

Tracy Cummings Geo. L. Bell 

T. W. Humphreys J. G. Melvin 

Chas. F. Manness J. C. Carlyon 

S. P. Hamilton Louis Mooser 

Wm. F. Leib Harold Brayton 

Curtis Tuttle E. Howard Baxter 

A. T. Gibson J. R. Davis 

A. S. Humphreys R. C. Melvin 

Shelby Cummings W. C. Hammon 

WHITE MEN: 

The Dreamer Marshall Darrach 

First Woodsman Bush Finnell 

Second Woodsman Jos. Thompson 

Third Woodsman Ralph Sloan 

MAIDEN-OF-THE-GENTLE-PEOPLE: 
Harold Baxter, 

THE LOVE- WOMAN: 
Harris Allen. 



Stage Director Frank L. Mathieu 

Masters of Lighting and Illumination 

Edward J. Duff ey, Vincent Duffey 

Designer of Costumes Amedee Joullin 

Stage Setting. .George Lyon, William Bryant, Courtney Ford 

Director of Water Spirit Dance George B. DeLong 

Properties Harry P. Carlton, Harry Stonda 

Conductor Uda Waldrop 

Concert Master A. Hoffmann 

Chorus Master E. D. Crandall 



10 



PROLOGUE 

THE VICTORY OF HATE AND STRIFE 



TIME 
Long ago. 

PLACE 
A redwood forest. 

A waterfall flows down the wooded hillside, over a huge 
rock and ends splashing in a pool. When the world was 
created, so runs the Indian faith, Great-Hand fashioned his 
features upon the rock, and it was made sacred; then the pool 
mirrored his face and was made holy. Once, in the dead past, 
a mighty wind laid low a tree. It fell to the hillside, over the 
Sacred Rock. 

From the hill-top to the glade below flowers bloom in radi- 
ant beauty and faintly fill the air with sweet scent. The birds 
sing and all is bathed in summer light. 

ACTION 

Suddenly this fair place is flooded with Indians. They start 
an irregular torture dance and are frenzied with the desire to 
impart, to the faggots, their hate. A white man is dragged 
before them. He is noble and, mindless of all this intense 
throbbing hate, gazes in adoration at the trees and the beauty 
of the summer scene. By gesture he shows his love of nature 
and gives his fellowship and forgiveness. The Indian priest, 
seated upon the rock-throne, will have none of it and com- 
mands the impatient Indians to proceed with the torture. 
They take him, with hate-haste, to the blackened torture 
stake and there they lash him; some blaze the fire; others 
leap into the dance and carry the faggots back to the flames; 
others fill rude cups at the waterfall and either hold them 
just outside their victim's reach, or dash the water to the 
ground; others try to spear him, but the spear-heads blunt 
and fall at every thrust; others endeavor to shoot arrows at 
the martyr, but the bow-strings break. They stand amazed 
and try again. The squaws gloat and incite further deviltry. 

13 



Great is the wrong they do this man, this lover of all things 
beautiful, and lo! the spiritual Love-Woman of the tribe 
(fragile in form, delicate of feature, clothed in simple white, 
a white eagle's feather in her hair) comes out of the waters, 
over the fallen tree and gives her love to him. She stands 
motionless, with arms out-stretched as if holding a cup filled 
to overflowing with her love. The eyes of the man at the 
stake lights with understanding and by expression tells her 
that he takes the full measure of her love. The Indian 
priest, following the eye of the white man, sees this goddess 
of tribe-love and with a wild fling of his arms commands the 
Indians to cease the dance and to put out the fire; for love 
has entered the victim. They, for a moment, go on with the 
torture and the priest again commands, pointing the while 
at the Love- Woman; at last it is given to them to see her 
and they obey. They are panic-stricken with wild terror and 
in their hurry burn themselves, showing this by blowing on 
their hands, running to the waterfall, plunging their arms into 
it, covering their eyes and showing pains, while they beat 
down the fire. The flames are out. The Love- Woman stands 
entranced and with joy seems about to return to the waters 
to live again, unseen, among her people. The Indians cut 
free the man from the stake and lead him (in white light, 
untouched by the fire) to the rock-throne and proclaim him 
chief, for a god has come to woo him. They gaze in super- 
stitious awe while he lifts his arms to Heaven. The Indians 
bend down before him. All seems well, but the Hate- Woman 
enters. She is all sinuous movement, strong, coarsely beauti- 
ful and boldly ornamented with clanging jewelry. She leaps 
at the Love- Woman, who, fearing, flies up the trail, her black 
hair flowing in the wind, and with a despairing gesture from 
her outspread arms vanishes from the grove. The Hate- 
Woman stands supreme. The white chief turns to bless Love 
upon the trail when lo! the Hate-Woman meets his eye. 
She dances and holds out her permissive arms. He is fascin- 
ated, he hesitates, control is yet within him. But at last, 
throwing away his reverent mien and dashing aside the wor- 
shipping Indians, who seek to stay him, he strides roughly 
towards her while she waits for him, confident with the pride 

14 



of victory. When he reaches her and just as he is about to 
take her in his arms, the grove is thrown into complete 
darkness. 

Love has left the grove and the doom has come. 

He has thrown away Conscience and Hate is triumphant. 

The waterfall no longer flows. 

The flowers fade. 

The birds are still. 

All is gloom within the glade. 



FINIS 



15 



RESUME OF PROLOGUE 

1. There is no curtain and the overture is played in full 
view of the audience. This is quite consistent; for the 
prologue is a moving picture without the camera, and it 
is therefore proper to show the field of action for some 
time before the act begins. 

2. Torture theme. 

3. Entrance of torture Indians. Dance of torture. 

4. Leaping for the faggots. 

5. Entrance of the white man and the Indian priest; fol- 
lowed by others. 

6. The white man's declaration of fellowship. Fellowship 
theme. 

7. The refusal of the Indian priest. Torture theme. 

6. The torture of the white man: 

a. The miracle of the spear-heads. 

b. The miracle of the bow-strings. 

c. The miracle of the flames. 
Torture theme. 

9. The entrance of the Love- Woman. The love theme. 

10. The giving and receiving of love between the Love- 
Woman and the white man. Love theme. 

11. The Indian priest's knowledge of the Love- Woman's 
presence. Love theme. 

12. The torture Indians' knowledge of the Love-Woman's 
presence. Love theme. 

13. General adoration of the Love-Woman. 

14. Sudden action of subduing the flames. 

16 



15. Liberation of the white man. His descent from the stake. 
The allegiance of the Indians. Fellowship theme, 

16. Entrance of the Hate-Woman. Hate theme. 

17. The flight of the Love Woman. Her exit. Music. 

18. The dance of the Hate- Woman. Music. 

19. The fascination of the white man. 

20. The lowering of all lights. The fading of flowers. The 
cessation of the waterfall over the Sacred Rock. 

21. The flight of Conscience from the white man. 

22. The white man's dash up the hill to the Hate- Woman. 

23. Darkness. 



FINIS 



17 



THE PLAY 



THE VICTORY OP LOVE AND FELLOWSHIP 



TIME 
Mid-day, long ago. 

SCENE 

As in the prologue, but without sunlight. All is gloom 
within the glade. Unkind time has been at work. All is 
sullen. The black stake stands in the ashes of past tortures. 
The hill-side is peopled with busy Hate-Indians. They make 
bows, arrows and spears. A squaw is seen weaving a war 
head-dress; another is dipping arrow-heads into a poison- 
brew. Each has his own little fire of dried willows. The 
thin smoke of the fires, to say nothing of the characteristic 
odor of the willow-smoke, will add to the quality of the scene. 

On the lower stage, near the Sacred Pool, are two Love- 
Longing Indians; one, an aged priest, the other a neophyte. 
They crouch near the water's edge and are in deep sadness. 
Nearby, to the left of them, are two guards of the Sacred 
Pool; they are less devout. 



THE GROVE SONG. 

(Sung off stage.) 

To-ni^ht the tree-tops listen tense. 

The forest deep, in reverence, 

The moon-beams shine with constant glow. 

The Grove Song is so sad and low. 

The birds are still. The flowers yearn. 

Ah! Love. They wait for your return. 

The drooping flowers fall and fade. 
And all is gloom within the glade. 
They long to live in love again. 
Yet all is whisp'ring hate and pain. 
Birds listen sadly in the leaves. 
Ah! Love. Fly back upon the breeze. 



(Pause.) 



21 



(This is followed by incidental music, during which two Indian 
boys bound forth upon an upper trail, running here and 
there in vicious play. They separate and chase each other 
until they spy the Love-Longing Indians at the Sacred Pool. 
They pause and plot in whispers; then with cunning and un- 
der cover, they sneak to within throwing distance and cast 
a stone into the Holy Pool. Incidental music ceases. They 
run off laughing through the woods. This action startles 
the Love-Longing Indians.) 

First Guard (Lifts his spear to aim and slay.) 
Aged Priest: 

Kill not! 
First Guard (Still aiming) : 

They foul the Holy Pool. 
Second Guard: 

Fast they run. Try no more. If they come 
again (drawing an arrow) they will not 
grow to follow the Great-Hate Chief. 
(Walks down stage, right center.) 
Neophyte: 

Let all things live. So orders the High 
Priest. 
First Guard (Pointing to the workers on the hill) : 

See. They live to kill. 
Aged Priest: 

Hot is their war-blood. 
Second Guard: 

They hunt well. To trail elk and deer is bet- 
ter than to gather acorns. 
Neophyte: 

We hunt far to gather nuts. Here nothing 
grows. 
(Pointing to the Holy Pool.) 

See. No lilies live. Why is this? 

Aged Priest: 

The Great Spirit is angry. 

Neophyte: 

Tell of this. 

22 



Aged Priest: 



(Pause.) 
(Pause.) 
Neophyte: 



Many moons ago. Not within the time of 
three tribes. A great spirit, the Love- 
Woman, dwelt with the lilies in this Holy 
Pool. No brave had sight of her. Un- 
seen she created Love and gave it to our 
people. Unseen, called the sun to grow 
the flowers. Unseen, made flowers give 
up heavy scent to twilight air. Unseen, 
called love-light to the moon. So, by love 
alone, our people were made ready for 
the Mighty One. All praised her. All 
was peace, power and just vengeance. 
When, lo! she fled. 

All was changed. 



We watch for her return. 

(With reverence) : 

I watch! 
(Crouches at the pool.) 
Second Guard (Pointing with his spear to Hate-Indians) : 

They do not watch. 
Aged Priest: 



First Guard: 



Second Guard: 



Aged Priest: 
Neophyte: 



They have no faith. They are Hate-braves. 
They follow the Great-Hate Chief. 

I followed once. 

And I. Big war-man. Good chief for us. 

No. He runs wild. 



He is like the panther, all strength and fight. 
He hastes for blood. 

First Guard (Excusingly) : 

No one finds food, or foe, if keen he seeks not. 
Does the hound kill the deer, if he scent 
like the village dog? 



23 



Second Guard: 

If they fight he fights back. It is good for the 
tribe that he hates keen. 
Aged Priest: 

Hate is good to guard life. Hate is bad to 
make fight, without cause. The Great- 
Hate Chief travels far to make fight. So 
the Great Spirit is angry and the Love- 
Woman has fled. Heard you the Grove 
Song? 
Second Guard: 

No. When? I hear not the Spirits. I am no 
priest. 
Aged Priest: 

Yet you hear and see nature. 
(Pause.) 

Is this summer? 

Second Guard: 

Yes. 

Aged Priest: 

Comes the same sun-god to all lands? 

Second Guard: 

True. 

Aged Priest: 

The seasons are the same? 

Second Guard: 

Good. 

Aged Priest: 

Then look and know. Grey light fills this for- 
est; sunlight floods the Love-land. Here 
no flowers grow; they bloom full, in Love- 
land. Listen! Hear you the Bird-song? 
(Pause.) 

It is singing strong, in Love-land. 

(Picking up some dry grass.) 

Lo! the grass dies; the God-of-cloud-and-rain 
grows waving grain, in Love-land. Look! 
the waters flow weak and shallow, they 
fall with little splash. 

24 



(Suddenly with arms out-stretched he prays.) 

Oh God-of-sudden-dawn! Where are the wa- 
ters? 
(Pauses as if hearing an answer.) 

Gone, by secret ways to charm the Love-land. 
We feel the shadows' gloom, they breed 
fellowship, in Love-land. The Great Spirit 
is angry. I have spoken. 
Second Guard (Somewhat impressed) : 

Will the Love- Woman fly back? 

Aged Priest: 

It is so told. 

First Guard: 

When, O priest? 

Aged Priest: 

When human love comes victor to a Great- 
Hate Chief. 



First Guard: 
Aged Priest: 

Neophyte: 
Aged Priest: 



Neophyte: 



All fear this chief. Fear makes a poor fight. 
How then may pure love come to him? 

Great is the Mighty One. Pray that He send 
a gentle maiden, brave with the power 
of love. 

Tell. Why did the Love- Woman fly? 

She gave love to a pale face, making him a 
chief. The Evil-One sent the Hate- Wom- 
an to fight her. The Hate- Woman won. 
The Love-Woman fled. Then did the 
white chief throw away Control and breed 
with Hate, and Strife was born. 

If love comes to this our chief, how will the 
Love- Woman know? 

25 



Aged Priest: 

Love will call Conscience to its home. For 
love is the home of Conscience. And Con- 
science will call the Spirit-Woman back. 
She will hear. Then will the grove grant 
fellowship to all. 
Neophyte: 

How will Conscience come? 
Aged Priest: 

I know not. Now is the moon-time-of-falling- 
leaf. The High Priest comes to seek a 
sapling at this torture-stake. For it is 
told: 

"When, from a hidden trunk, a tender 

sapling grows; 
All the living world will know, what 
Strength to Weakness owes." 
Then shall we know Control. 
Second Guard (Running up to the stake) : 

No sapling here. 
First Guard (Sneers and turns away) : 
Aged Priest, (To the guard) : 

Sneer not. He who seeks and shows his teeth 
never finds. 
Second Guard (Looking off, right) : 

The High Priest comes! 

(Enter a goodly number of Love-Longing Indians, for the most 
part pipe-players and converts from the Hate-Indians. They 
cross left and:) 

Omnes: 

Hail! O Medicine-man. 

Reader of moon and sun. 

Hail! O patient priest. 

Slave of the Mighty-One. 

(The High Priest enters. He takes his place upon the throne. 
He returns the acclaim with a sign.) 

Neophyte: (At the stake, excited) : 

O High Priest! No sign of sapling here. 

26 



High Priest ( With some annoyance) : 

Approach. 
(Neophyte jumps from the stake and kneels.) 

Break not the coming ceremony. Your 
tongue is young. Listen, learn, have faith. 
(The Neophyte is properly subdued. Yet he is very reverent 
and kneels, taking this as just censure.) 

Aged Priest: 

Master-of-mystery, we have watched the 
Sacred Throne. 
(Turning to the others.) 

All hail! The High Priest! The Priest of 
Love is great and he alone! 
Omnes (Verly solemnly) : 

Hail! 
High Priest: 

Comes now the moon-time-of-falling-leaf. The 
mist rests on the river. Hear the story-of- 
the-stake. 

(CEREMONY OF THE STAKE.) 

(The pipe-players gather round the Holy Pool. The Assistant 
Priests squat down and form a semi-circle, from the High 
Priest to about the center of the stage. Others stand behind 
them, facing the High Priest, with their backs to the left 
lower entrance. The Neophyte stands at the foot of the 
rock throne. The Hate-Indians, on the hill, cease their work. 
Some leave the stage, having no interest in the ceremony. 
Others remain and listen, listlessly.) 
(The Pipe refain is started; weird and low. The High Priest 
gives a sign. The First Assistant Priest leaves the semi- 
circle and goes to the stake. He starts a slow religious dance 
around it. After he has gone once round, the Second Assist- 
ant Priest does likewise; then the Third Assistant Priest; then 
the Fourth Assistant Priest, until all four are slowly dancing.) 
(The flutes continue low.) 
First Assistant Priest (Stepping put of the dance) : 

Oh! High Priest of all the Love-tribe. 
Hearing message from the Great-One. 
Knowing all the past traditions. 
Solving them to all the people. 
(Pause.) . ... 

Speak! 

27 



(Steps back into the dance.) 

Second Assistant Priest (Stepping out of dance) : 

Mouthpiece of the birds, and fishes. 

Knowing all the roots, and berries. 

Favored by the Wonder Worker. 

Servant of the gods that serve Him. 

(Pause.) 

Speak! 

(Steps back into the dance.) 

Third Assistant Priest (Stepping out of the dance) : 
Reader of the sudden starlight, 
Flashing fast across the heavens, 
To the resting place of spirits, 
To the home of souls departed! 

(Pause.) 

Speak! 

(Steps back into the dance.) 

Fourth Assistant Priest (Stepping out of the dance) : 
Lo! The bridge of little star-light! 
Lo! The distant summer star-light! 
Lo! The Moon-time of traditions, 
Orders thee to straight-way tell us, 
Of the Love-maid, and the White Chief. 
Of the time she lived among us, 
All unseen beside the lilies, 
Giving love to all our people. 
How the Hate-Maid— Child of Evil- 
Came and won the White Chief from her. 

(Pause.) 

Speak! Oh Speak! 

Omnes (Pause. All stand) : 

Speak! Oh Speak! 
High Priest (Leaves the rock-throne, followed by two who 

carry the medicine-pouch, and strides to the torture-stake; 

then, with solemn ritualistic attitude, throws the contents of 

the pouch upon the stake.) (From the upper stage near the 

stake) : 

After long and weary watching, 
To this blackened stake of torture, 
Came a storm of awful thunder, 
Crashing redwoods all about me, 

28 



Bending tree-tops low, in anguish. 
Flying ashes of the victims, 
Whirled around the stake in circles, 
Forming ghosts of those who suffered, 
From the flames of long ago. 
{Pause. Indians murmur.) 

Yet the rain-god, he was silent, 
Strange and awful was the night-time, 
When the voice of one departed, 
Came and told to me this story. 

(Pause.) (Indians again murmur.) (He strides to lower stage 
and takes his place on the Rock-Throne.) 

Through the grove, all gay with summer, 
Went the hunting braves, at day-light, 
To the rushing winding river, 
Winding wildly to the ocean. 
Then the clear air of the morning, 
Showed no river-haze obscuring. 
And the keen eye of a hunter 
Saw the thick smoke of the stranger 
Curling heavy, from the tree-tops, 
Showing plainly where he rested, 
Showing he had little wisdom. 

First Assistant Priest: 

You are sage, O Wonder-reader. 
For the thin smoke of our people, 
Shows the cunning of the hunter. 

First Guard: 

Good. The smoke of little willows, 
Made from willows that are sun-dried, 
Rises like the summer vapors 
That are blue within the canyon. 
So the hawk is oft mistaken. 

Second Guard: 

And the eye of foolish white men 
Sees but blue within the canyon. 

Second Assistant Priest: 

Speak, O Priest! 

29 



High Priest: 

Then the hunters started circling, 

Coming closer, ever closer, 

Like the eagle when he's flying, 

Till at noon they came upon him. 

Then they paused, and looked, and wondered, 

For the picture that they saw there, 

They had never seen aforetime. 

{Mtisic theme of Fellowship.) 

He was manly, strong and gentle; 
And he rested there in sunlight, 
With no spoils of war beside him. 
Lo! the white birds, from the tree-tops, 
Flew with fellowship about him. 
They were flying with the secrets, 
All the secrets of the tree-tops. 
And the timid ones of wood-land, 
They were fearless in their playing, 
As they gamboled all about him. 

{Pause.) 

Only strife of little insects 

Hurt the stillness of the noon-time. 

{Music theme of Fellowship ceases.) 

All of this they saw and wondered, 

And they feared to fall upon him. 

They were faint with thought of slaying, 

For he seemed a god of nature. 

Yet they came a little nearer, 

With the cunning of the hunter. 

And the birds flew wild with warning. 

And the timid ones of wood-land, 

Ran with fear into the forest. 

But he took no heed of danger. 

And bewildered, he was captured. 

{Music theme of Torture.) 

Then they drove, and dragged him footsore, 
To this grove, and there they lashed him, 
To this stake of many tortures. 
And in fury flamed the faggots. 

30 



(Music theme of Torture ceases.) 

Lo! The faggots would not burn him! 
Lo! Trie knife and sharpened spear-heads, 
Broke and blunted when they hurled them! 

(Music theme of the Love-Woman.) 

Then in all this hate and fury, 
Came the Love-Maid of our people, 
From the waters that were splashing, 
Splashing strongly in the pool. 

She the Love-Maid of our people, 

Who had lived with water lilies, 

In the Holy Pool for ages, 

Granting love to all our people, 

Came, in human form, to love him, 

For the wrong that they had done him. 

(Music theme ceases.) 

Then they knew that they had blundered 

And in haste, put out the fire. 

Love had entered strong the white man, 

For her light was all about him, 

As they called him to the rock-throne 

And they claimed him as their Chieftain, 

For a god had come to woo him. 

(Music theme of Hate.) 

But alas! The Evil-Spirit 
Sent a hating, lustful woman 
To the grove, to fight the Love-Maid, 
And to win the white man from her. 

Hate did win and Love confounded, 
Fled with fright, across the bridges. 
Up the trail, her black hair flowing 
Far behind her, with her speeding. 
Then, with out-spread arms, she vanished. 



(Pause.) 



Then, with wicked spell, the Hate-one 
Danced, and lured the newborn chieftain, 
From his worship of the Love-Maid, 
From his Conscience — from Control. 

31 



Then the Great- One doomed the chieftain, 
Doomed the woman who had won him. 
Doomed their sons to come thereafter, 
Doomed them all to Hate and Strife. 

(Pause — profound silence, broken only by the falling water.) 

(Very reverently.) * 

This the story of the Love-maid, 
From the voice of awful thunder, 
From the voice long since departed. 

(END OF CEREMONY OF THE STAKE.) 

First Guard: 

Our chief is great. 

Third Assistant Priest: 

Great in strife. He is the child of the doomed. 
Second Assistant Priest: 

Yet, he is better than his kind. 

I have seen him ill at ease after wrong. 

The fault lies not with him, but with his fathers. 

High Priest: 

You speak true. Pray that love come to him. 

Second Guard (With pride.) 

Great strength. Eye of eagle. Ear of deer. 
Nose like bear. Cunning as fox. Great 
war-man. Our chief IS great! 

Neophyte: 

Aye. Great lust! 

Second Assistant Priest: 

Alas, the seed of evil holds high place! 

Neophyte: 

We are doomed. No flowers grow. I grieve. 

High Priest: 

Have faith. Hear me. 

(He bends over the Holy Pool, making a few mysterious signs, 
and then in a voice of prophesy:) 

A maid will come with power of pure love. 
She will fight a Great-Hate Chief. She 
will win and Hate will fly from him. Then 

32 



Neophyte: 
High Priest: 

Neophyte: 
High Priest: 



will the Mighty- One be kind and send back 
the White Chief's Conscience. Then will 
the Love-Woman come to live again, with 
the lilies and unseen breed love among 
our people. Have hope, O youth. I have 
spoken. 

How will Conscience come? 

I know not how. By man, beast or bird. 
Therefore kill no living thing. 

Will there be a sign? 



When sapling springs from blackened stump! 
Keep watch. 

Neophyte (Leaping to the stake and keenly looking) : 

Alas, there is no sapling here. 
(Despondently.) 

We are doomed! 
First Assistant Priest (With religious fervor and uplifted 
arms) : 

Lift the gloom, O Spirit of Light! 

Second Assistant Priest (With religious fervor and uplifted 
arms) : 

We sorrow for Love, O Gentle-One! 

Third Assistant Priest: 

All is strife. The spear, the arrow, the war- 
axe conquer. Bring peace, O Mighty-One! 
Bring peace! 

High Priest (With solemn reverence) : 

This the moon-time, O Mighty- Spirit! 
When long ago a wrong was done. 
See how the redwoods grieve in silence. 
Lift now the doom, O Mighty-One! 

(He strides over to the Holy Pool. The Love-Longing Indians 
follow and all arrange themselves for the Prayer and La- 
ment. In this the pipes play a major part.) 

33 



(THE PRAYER AND LAMENT.) 

Fifth Priest: 

Pause in Thy wonder-work, O Mighty Spirit! 
Listen, with grace, to our prayer and our woe. 
Call back the Love-Maid who fled from the 

forest; 
Affrighted by Hate in the long, long ago. 

CHORUS CHANT. 

Spring up O Sun-god! 
Bounteous Giver. 
Lord-of-the-love-tribe. 
Hear our prayer. 
Now Mighty Spirit! 
Out of the waters, 
Call back the Love-Maid. 
Stay our despair. 

Fifth Priest: 

Welcome the swift things we send with the 

message. 
The wood-rat, the deer, the snake and the bird. 
O God of all gods, with love and compassion, 
Give to the White- Wing Thy wonderful word. 

CHORUS CHANT. 

O great River-god! 
O most Mighty One! 
Wild in the winter, 
Tame in the Spring. 

High Priest (Exalted) : 

Foam fast the waters 
Into the Holy Pool; 
Over the Sacred Rock 
Loud thundering! 



(Ensemble) 



O God-of-sudden-dawn! 
Doomer of shadows, 
Maker-of -flaming-light, 
Lifting the gloom. 

, 34 



O God-of-cloud-and-rain! 

Fall on the tired leaf! 

Sink to the striving root 

Make flowers bloom! 
(The pipes continue to play low and the Love-Longing Indians 

are silent.) 
(A memory of the Hate theme is played.) 
{The SECOND CHIEF enters.) 

Second Chief {Unnoticed by the Love-Longing Indians. They 
are in prayer. He smiles, calls his retinue of braves up oft 
the stage, about six. He commands them to silence and 
points to the religious group. He looks about him for a 
stone, finds one, and points to it. One of his braves hands it 
to him. He lobs it over the heads of the devoted Indians. 
It falls with a splash into the Holy Pool. This is a great 
sacrilege.) 

(The pipes cease. The High Priest and his followers start to 
their feet.) 

(With false concern he points dramatically:) 

Look! Look! Beware the ripples! 

If they touch a sickness comes upon you! 
(Those at the pool's edge jump back. He smiles at the success 
of this trick. Sarcastically:) 

Prayer seems to blunt your bravery. 
(Some look ashamed.) \ 

Is it not time to gather acorns? 
First Guard (Angry and striding up to him) : 

Squaw work! 
Second Chief (Innocently) : 

Is it? 
High Priest (In anger but touched with fear) : 

You mock. You dare to splash the waters! 

Second Chief (Walking over to the pool and looking down at 
it and pointing) : 

You looked too long at yourself. I saved you 
from the sin of pride. Thank me, 
(Sarcastically.) 

O Mighty Priest! 
High Priest: 

The pool is holy and — 

35 



Second Chief: 

Holy? Is it known? 
(Sarcastically.) 

O wise one! 
(Looking again at the pool.) 

Are you sure it is holy? It looks evil. 
First Assistant Priest: 

All things look evil to you. 

Second Chief: 

Do they? 

(He measured the depth of the pool with his spear. This is 
even a greater sacrilige and the Love-Longing Indians mur- 
mur. He takes no notice of them, but looks at the mark 
upon the spear and then, with feigned surprise:) 

It is almost dry! A shallow home for the 
Love-Woman, if she return. 
(Innocently.) 

Is she not a Water Spirit? 
High Priest (In alarm) : 

Heed him not. He is bad. Love will re- 
turn. 
Second Chief* (Ingratiatingly) : 

How long, O reader-of-the-stars, since the 
Love- Woman fled? 
High Priest (Sorrowfully) : 

Alas! Three tribes ago! 
Second Chief (As if in deep thought.) 

Hm! Three tribes ago? 

Hm! A long time — 

A long flight — 
(With surprise and some admiration.) 

She has flown to the end of the world — 

If she fly back, it will not be in our time. 

A pity. I am sad. 

(Some of the Love-Longing Indians, especially the two Guards, 
look up suddenly. This is a new idea tp< them. They speak 
together and nod their heads.) 

36 i 



(Seeing this out of the corner of his eye and noting its effect, 
he continues, slyly:) 

But it is foolish to long for her! 
It is not good to be sad! 
Sadness makes the blood thick. 
(Several more of the Love-Longing Indians show interest in 

this logic.) 
High Priest (Calls in fear and excitement.) 

Hear him not, he is of the evil spirit! 
Second Chief (Ignoring this.) 

We, who follow the Great-Hate Chief, do not 

long for her. 
We live well. We hunt. We do not pick 

berries. 
You know, O High Priest, our Chief is great! 

(The High Priest does not answer. The Indians murmur.) 

No? Good, I will tell him. It will please him. 
He is so calm. You know, O reader-of-the- 
stars, our Great Chief guards our sleep? 

(He waits for an answer. The Priests and Indians are silent.) 
He is victorious, O wise one? 

(Silence.) 

Even now, he fights to bring the spoils of war 
— the cattle and women of our foes. Does 
he not? 

(Silence.) 

O Priest. They tell me you are the Lord-of- 
the-love-tribe. Will you take this pleasure 
from our chief? 

(Silence.) 

(Failing to trap them into a statement against the Great-Hate 
Chief, he suddenly changes his tone.) 

Come! We are rich! Leave this old man. 
He is too proud of himself. 
Hate well that you may live well. 
If we want peace, for he talks of nothing but 
peace, we need not fight. 

37 



(Two or three of the Love-Longing Indians, including the Guards, 
cross over to his side. Others from the upper stage do like- 
wise. He smiles.) 

Now, you show sense. 
High Priest (With great concern and entreaty.) 

Oh, foolish ones! No peace comes from 

Strife, 
While the peace of love is everlasting! 
Second Chief (Imitating him.) 

Oh, foolish one! You say love is not here. 
Where then is your peace? Heed him not. 

High Priest: 

That we may live well, we long for love. 

Second Chief: 

That we may live well, we slay. To slay well, 
we hate. From the eye to the edge of the 
world all things slay to live. It is na- 
ture's law. 
(Imitating him.) 

Be natural, O my people! 
High Priest (In anger) : 

With you, evil one, all nature dies before its 
time. 

Second Chief: 

O wise Priest! To know the dying time of 
nature. 

(Commandingly.) 

Come, waverers! Leave these thin prattlers. 
Stain not your fingers berry-picking, but 
stain them in foe's blood. 

(Others cross over.) 

Welcome! 

(Confidentially^) 

Is he not a silly old man? 
High Priest (In anxious alarm) : 

Return! Oh return! He leads you to ruin! 
Oh my people, come back! 

38 



(In anger to the Second Chief.) 

Beware, O evil-one-who-brings-out-the-bad, 
You play with your death. The Great One 
is angry I 

Second Chief: 

Heat not your blood, old man. You play 
with your death. Be careful. You may 
not live to see the Love-Woman, 

High Priest: 

Hear me! Without love, this tribe will pass. 

The trees, our gentle gods for ages, demand 
fellowship! We little heed the lesson of 
the grove and all is gloom and grey. 
Roots grow weak and tree-tops moan with 
thirst made greater by the little mist 
drinks. The leaves tire, and no flowers 
bloom. Love has fled, and thou, slave of 
evil, art watching to slay the good within 
us. I pray your death that love return! 

Second Chief: 

Bah! You wield no weapon but your tongue! 
Be silent, like a squaw. 

Neophyte (Exalted by the High Priest's lesson and wild with 
anger at this insult, he draws a knife, rushing at the Second 
Chief) : 

At last I hate! I hate! 

Die, Evil One! Die! 
(He stabs.) 

Second Chief (Wards off the blow with great cease and with 
a smile seizes the knife. Then, still smiling:) 

Love-longing makes thee weak. 

(Starts to stab the helpless Neophyte.) 
Runner (Appears on upper trail) : 
Hail! 

(He leaps down, over the bridges and stops, rigid, on the upper 
stage.) 

Comes the Hate Chief! Swift as panther! 
From the land of war-like people! 

39 



Bringing spoils of bloody-battle 
After long and heavy fighting! 

(Pause.) 

Comes the Hate Chief! Swift as eagle! 

From the land of gentle people. 

Bringing maiden who is captive 

To his craft and to his cunning. 
(He runs off.) 

(THE COMING OF THE GREAT-HATE CHIEF) 

(The Indians gather from all sides and arrange themselves on 
the lower and upper stage. A band of about ten war-men 
appears on the upper trail. They are followed by the captive 
maiden, "Maiden-of-the-Gentle-People." Her hands are bound 
behind her back. From her neck a rope leads loose to the 
neck of a mustang ridden by the Great-Hate Chief. The 
maiden shows no fear, but walks with pride, indicating that 
she is the maiden of the tradition. When the Great-Hate 
Chief appears, followed by the rest of his retinue, the Indi- 
ans on the stage break into the chorus — "Acclaim and 
March.") 

(FIRST PART) 

Hail! Great-Hate Chief!! 
He-who -fights-well. 
Fierce foes to quell. 
Hear our war-yell. GREAT CHIEF!! 

Hail! Great-Hate Chief!! 
Who-lives-to-fight, 
Who-longs-to-smite, 
Brave foes to flight. HATE CHIEF!! 

(SECOND PART) 

Skilled in craft of war 

Wonder warrior, 

Keen, with eagle-eye. 

Seeing far away, 

Foes who come to fight, 

Meet his arrow shot. GREAT CHIEF!! 

40 



Swift as deer in flight, 

Ear like doe with fawn, 

Hearing falling-leaf, 

Strong as redwood tree. 

Fighting with his might. 

Bringing victory. HATE CHIEF!! 

{THIRD PART) 

Hail! Great-Hate Chief!! 
He-who-hates straight. 
His axe will sate. 
War man!! GREAT HATE CHIEF!! 

{The Chief arrives on the stage. He gives a sign. A brave — 
the Silent One — steps out. He points to the Maiden. The 
brave takes the rope from off her neck and cuts the thongs 
upon her wrists.) 

{The Second Chief, most obsequiously, holds the pony. The 
Chief dismounts. The mustang is led off the stage. The 
Chief goes to the throne. He beckons the maid to follow. 
She obeys slowly, and stands, in no submissive way, at his 
side.) 

Great-Hate Chief: 

Great fight! Well won! Dance!! 

{THE WAR DANCE.) 

{Same theme as the Acclaim, but in dance form.) 

{EXIT the dancers in mad fury.) 

{On the stage remain: 

THE GREAT-HATE CHIEF. 
THE CAPTIVE MAIDEN. 

THE GUARD OF THE GREAT-HATE CHIEF. 
THE SECOND CHIEF. 

THE HIGH PRIEST AND HIS ASSISTANTS.) 
Great-Hate Chief {On the throne. Calls a brave) : 

Guard river trail. Watch well. 
{EXIT Brave. He calls another brave.) 

Guard trail of setting sun. Watch well. 
{EXIT Brave. He turns to High Priest.) 

Priest, watch well this maiden. Be kind. 

41 



(In this order the Priests see awakening a good sign. They 
speak together. The Second Chief is perturbed.) 

(Then, to the remaining retinue:) 

Cornel Follow me I 
(EXIT, followed by braves.) 

Second Chief (Touching the last brave — "Silent One" — detain- 
ing him; pointing to the maiden) : 

Whence comes this woman? 
The Brave: 

From Gentle People. 
Land of rising sun. 
Second Chief: 

Two days' journey. You take four. You travel 
slow. Why? 



Silent One: 



(Proudly.) 

(EXIT.) 
Second Chief: 



Great-Hate Chief's command. She young. . . 
trail rough. . . She foot-tired. Ask no 
more. 

I follow Great Chief. I have spoken. 



The maiden bringing love! It is not good. 
(EXIT in deep thought.) 

High Priest (To Assistant Priests) : 

Go! 
(EXEUNT Priests.) 

(Maiden crosses left to pool Goes slowly to stake. Makes a 
few medicine signs.) 

High Priest: 

O Judge of Vengeance! Give sign. Behold the 
maiden. Is she the virgin bringing love 
to the Great-Hate Chief, that he may know 
Control? Is she the soft cloud before the 
sun? Will the Great-Hate Chief take her? 
Will the sun shine with love upon us? 
(Silence.) (Lookingly keenly at base of tree-trunk.) 
No sign! No sapling grows! 
Then speak, O soul departed!! 

42 



(He lifts his arms. A glow takes place at the foot of the tree 
stump. Music.) 

A Voice: 

When virgin love shall enter him, 

Passion then begets no sin. 

Then in hollow of his heart 

Conscience comes to ne'er depart. 
High Priest 

{Walking slowly down to the stage center with continuation of 
musical theme. Lifts his arms in prayer.) 

O God-of-the-tree-tops, give Love to my 
people. 
(Sings) : 

Are you the maiden of old tradition, 
Bringing the grove a love-lighted dawn? 
Sing that the tree-tops may know of thy 

presence; 
Sing that a Fellowship love may be born. 

II. 

Soft gentle maid, like a deer in the autumn, 
Be fearless and brave in this hate-shadowed 

place. 
Make captive our Chief by your wondrous 

beauty; 
Hold him a slave by your God-given grace. 

III. 

Sing to the heavens a full-throated song, 
A song that the birds will echo to thee. 
Bring all the sorrowing life of the forest 
Back to its joy with a love melody. 

The Maiden of the Gentle People 
(Sings) : 

By a shady tree, and a running brook, 
A love woman gave me birth. 

43 



And I drank strong love from her full rich 

breasts, 
As brown as the breasts of earth. 



A Tree-Top From the Left Side 
(Sings) : 



The wind blows soft through our spreading 

leaves. 
Sing on, sweet maid, "The Song of the Trees." 
For the song we sing to the stars above, 
Is the song of a perfect fellowship love. 



The Maiden of the Gentle People 

(Sings) : 

II. 



And great is the power of virgin love, 
To bring a brave to his mate. 
So I will fight this Great-Hate Chief, 
And win him from his hate. 



A Tree-Top From the Right Side 
(Sings) : 



Soft is the tread of your foot on the leaves. 
Sing on, sweet maid, "The Song of the Trees." 
Bring fellowship love that the flowers may 

bloom, 
For without love they grieve in the gloom. 



The Maiden of the Gentle People 
(Sings) : 



And he shall have my power of love, 

And all my weakness too. 

And he will worship wonder things, 

As all true lovers do. 

Then love will breed sweet fellowship, 

And the trees will sing their song. 

44 



And the Grove will worship at your feet, 
From evenfall till dawn. 

The Tree-Tops of the "Three Graces" 

(Sing) : 

Sweet is your song of love to our leaves. 
Sing on, sweet maid, "The Song of the Trees." 
Sing that the Grove by the sun-god be kissed; 
Sing that the weary leaves sleep in the mist. 
(Ensemble of Tree Tops.) 

(After this trio, the High Priest, in a fatherly and reverent man- 
ner, leads the Maiden-of-the-Gentle-People from the stage, 
right.) 

(The Great-Hate Chief and the Second Chief ENTER, left. 
They watch the EXIT of the Maiden-of-the-Gentle-People, 
with very different sensations; the Great-Hate Chief, with 
awakening love; the Second Chief, with hate and resent- 
ment.) 

Second Chief (With the utmost consideration) : 

What fights you, great Chief, greater than all 
others? 

Great-Hate Chief (With deep concern) : 

I know not where I go. I rush on like winter 
river. I rest not my mind. 

Second Chief (With affectionate anxiety) : 

Rest your body. You traveled too fast upon 
the trail. 

(Sneeringly.) 

O swift one! 

Great-Hate Chief: 

No. The maiden wearied. I went slow. 

Second Chief (With solicitation) : 

Then you fight too long, and are weary. Sun- 
rise will see you again the Great-Hate 
Chief. 

(Watching him narrowly.) 

45 



\ 



Great-Hate Chief (Ashamed) : 

"Hate Chief." I like not the name. It 
sounds evil to me. 

Second Chief (With great pride of him) : 

It is evil, to others. All fear you, O mighty 
warman ! 

Great-Hate Chief 

(Pauses. Then starts up and strides the stage) : 

This maiden. Her land but a swift two days' 
journey. All peace, rushing water and ris- 
ing sun. Her people do not fight. They 
do not hate. There is no strife. Their 
seasons are the same. See! This grove 
is in gloom. No flowers grow. Why is 
this? 

Second Chief (With solicitude) : 

We are a tree-tribe. The sun is little in the 
trees. Rest now. Think later. 

Great-Hate Chief: 

The Great One is angry with my people. 

(He continues his restless stride. Pauses. Then suddenly:) 

Or, is it I? 
Second Chief (Interrupting him quickly) : 

No I Not you, mighty Chief I Command me 
and I will lay waste this maiden's land. 
Then think no more of it. 
(Lights lower.) 

Great-Hate Chief: 

See, the forest gloom deepens! 

Second Chief (Soothingly) : 

A cloud passes. Oh rest, eagle, rest. Think 
no more of this. 

Great-Hate Chief (Still harping on the maiden. He sits on the 
side of the throne) : 

She has sorrow for her people. She has 
spoken. 

46 



Second Chief (Off his guard for a moment and somezvhat im- 
patiently) : 

She will soon forget. It is their way. 

Great-Hate Chief (In sudden anger) : 

Speak no evil of her. 

Second Chief (Recovering himself. Combination of fawning 
and reproach) : 

I speak no evil. To forget is the gift of the 
gods. The wound remains not open. 
Great-Hate Chief (In deep melancholy) : 

She is like the sun. When I look at her, I 
pray in my mind. Is the Great One call- 
ing me to the things he makes beautiful? 
I conquer. The pride of war is mine, yet 
I sorrow. Why? I am punished. 
"O Mighty Spirit, lift now this burden." 
What burden? I know not. . . .Something 
fights me. I have spoken. 

(He sits again and gazes into the pool with deep despondency.) 

(The Second Chief is at a loss. He gases at the Great-Hate 
Chief with most villainous hate. He is about to give the 
matter up as hopeless, when "Silent One" crosses the stage 
from left to right and EXIT. This gives Second Chief a 
new idea. He smiles.) 

Second Chief ( With great conviction) : 

The maid is beautiful. 
Great-Hate Chief: 

She has star-light beauty I She is fawn-eyed I 
Second Chief: 

Good. She is your war-prize. Take her, Q 
Chief. 
(Looking off stage, right. Innocently:) 

Where goes "Silent One"? 
Great- Hate Chief: 

I know not. I care not. 
Second Chief (Watching him very keenly) : 
Great-Hate Chief (Looks quickly up, but saying no word,) 

It was he who told me she was beautiful. 

47 



Second Chief (Pretending not to notice this and quite casually) : 
He spoke long of her. Like you, O Chief, 
but not so well. He did not think of — *— 
(Pause. Watching him.) 

"Star-light beauty," but he spoke long and well. 
Strange. He is called "Silent One." 
(Looking off.) 

Where goes he, I wonder? 

Great-Hate Chief (Looking at Second Chief, his face hard set) : 
I know not. 

(Pause. Growing anger.) 

You say he spoke of her? 

Second Chief (Casually) : 

A long time. He told me he was happy, for she 
smiled upon him. 
Great-Hate Chief 

Go on! 

(Hand on knife) : 

Second Chief: 

I told him she was your war-prize, but he 
smiled. 

Great-Hate Chief (Drawing his knife and with sudden, 

panther-like spring) : 

Bring him! Bring him to me! 

Second Chief (At once changing his tone to hate) : 

No! Not him, but her. Take her now. 
She is not for a brave. Be quick. Be not 
blind. Kill him at sunrise. Take her now. 
Great-Hate Chief (Calling off, in wild rage) : 

Ho! 
(A brave comes running.) 

Bring the maiden! 

(The brave runs off.) 
Second Chief (Exultant) : 

O panther! Kill him at sunrise. Take her now! 

48 



(The maiden is brought on by the brave, followed by the High 
Priest and his retinue. The Indians cro,wd the stage. 
"Silent One" ENTERS with them.) 

Great-Hate Chief (Pointing to "Silent One") : 

Guard him. Go kill him at sunrise. 

(The braves take "Silent One" off the stage. He is amazed.) 

Second Chief (Roughly brings The Maiden-of-the-Gentle- 
People to the Great-Hate Chief) : 

War-Prize. O Mighty Chief. 
High Priest (With understanding) : 

Thou plotter of mischief! 

(The Maiden stands fearless. The High Priest steps forward 
to protect her. All seems lost. It is a villainous moment. 
The trees moan. The musical theme pf Hate is heard. The 
Maiden lifts her arms in prayer.) 

Great-Hate Chief (With scorn and anger) : 

Bind her. 
(This is done.) 

Two-faced squaw, I 

(The call of the river-guard is heard afar off. It is repeated 
by the guard of the rising-sun trail. All the stage is sud- 
denly tense with listening. The Great-Hate Chief makes a 
sign. A young brave steps out and gives the answering 
call. All listen. It is answered.) 

Great-Hate Chief: 

Pale face! 

(The whole tribe scurry to cover. They ambush to the right, to 
the left, up the trail and behind trees. The Great-Hate Chief 
takes the Maiden with him. The scene is alone.) 

(The orchestra plays the theme of "Throbbing Hate." A light 
falls upon the blackened stake. Above the theme "Of Throb- 
bing Hate" comes the theme of the Water Spirits. _ Out from 
the waters the spirits come. Some from the high water- 
fall, others from the middle waters, others from the Holy 
Pool. They tumble down and dance a gladsome beckoning 
dance. They beckon "The Dreamer" They — the Water 
Spirits — fade away, at the end of their dance, into the waters. 
During this dance, a sapling grows from the blackened trunk 
pf torture.) 

(On the stage comes "The Dreamer 3 ' and the three companion 
Woodmen.) 

49 



(The Dreamer gazes, in rapt adoration, at the Grove, the Sacred 
Rock, the water-fall and the great trees. The Woodmen 
stand, in a group, right. It is easily seen that they are in 
anger.) 

("The Dreamer" stands (left) as if in a trance.) 
First Woodsman (To the others) : 

I'll go no further. I'm tired of this aimless 
march. 

Second Woodsman (To the others): 

And I! Do we seek gold? 
Third Woodsman (To the others) : 

I know not, but it's time to ask. 
Second Woodsman (To the others) : 

If it be gold, is it a certain find? 
Third Woodsman (Impatiently) : 

I know not! 
(Pointing to the Dreamer.) 

He has been silent too long. 

Second Woodsman: 

We have crossed fast-growing lands, where all 
was sunlight and rest. 

He took no heed of them. 

Now he waits in this forest gloom. 

What is he after? 
(To the Dreamer.) 

Hear us. Where go we? What do you seek? 

We will go no further unless we know. 

The Dreamer: 

Take heart. Hear my dream. My wonder 
dream. I saw within a grove of silent 
trees, a man. Great was his glory, for he 
was Self-denial. It was night, and the 
moonlight sheen gave light to guard the 
sleep of Nature. The smoke of his fire 
filled the air with phantoms, and the sparks 
were as little stars flying to their brothers 
in the sky. 

50 



Suddenly all went evil. The man laughed and 
cried aloud, "I care not, I have yet my 
senses to satify." 
Then the voice of a Presence said, "Let evil 
own thee. Let thy unbridled senses sway 
thee. Let beauty shun thee. Hear not the 
song of the birds. Thou and thy race shall 
live in gloom and they shall hate and be 
hated, until one, made perfect by a virgin 
love, shall cry aloud, 'O Mighty Spirit, 
lift now this burden.' Then will I make a 
dream and give the dreamer thy Con- 
science, that thou hast thrown away, and 
he will arise and go forth, seeking this one 
made pure by love." 
Such was my dream. I am the Dreamer. I am 
the bearer of the Conscience. My journey 
is nearly over; my duty nearly ended. I 
seek the son, making him a god! 

(The Woodsmen straightway fall into great anger.) 

First Woodsman: (In raging amazement) : 
A dream! 

Second Woodsman: 

Footsore, and half-starved for a dream! 
Parched on the plains, for a dream! 

Third Woodsman: 

Mountain, flood and danger for a dream. 
We have been fooled. 

First Woodsman 

(Suddenly struck with great fear and looking back.) 
Shall we suffer the same for a dream? No! 

(With murderous look, grasps at his hunting knife.) 

The Dreamer (Without fear) : 
I have answered. 

Second Woodsman: 

We will go no further. 

51 



The Dreamer: 

Then leave me. 
First Woodsman: 

Aye ! We WILL leave you, and may you die in 
a dream! Come. 

{They start to go, right. Immediately after their exit, a flight 
pf arrows flies from every thicket on the hill. A cry {off 
stage) proclaims their death.) 

The Indians Hood the stage from all sides and lay hands upon 
the Dreamer. 

STAGE PICTURE. 

Well down left a group of Indians (Chorus). Well down right 
another group of Indians of the Love-Longing type (Chorus). 

The Great-Hate Chief stands near the approach to the Rock 
Throne; the Maiden by his side — she is bound at her wrists. 
The Second Chief to the left of the Great-Hate Chief — or at least 
near him,. The Dreamer is in the center of the stage, some way 
back, and Indians are on either side of him. Somewhat higher 
than he, and on the incline to the second stage, the High Priest 
stands; and above him, and to the right of the Dreamer stands 
the Neophyte. On the second stage, but well right, the Indians 
are bringing faggots to the torture stump. In other words, the 
prologue seems about to be re-enacted. 



THE ACTION 

The Indians start to drag the Dreamer towards the torture 
stake. 

High Priest (Lifting his hand) : 

Hold! This man lives! Some power held the 
fatal arrow. 

(Pointing right.) 

Yet swift sped death to the Redman's foe. 
It is the moon-time of the soul departed. 
Beware! 

(The Indians hesitate and turn to the Great-Hate Chief. He also 
hesitates with superstitious fear.) 

Second Chief (He almost whispers to the Great-Hate Chief) : 
Slay him. This is foolish talk. 

52 



(The Indians show impatience at this delay. Aloud:) 
See how your people rage. 

Great-Hate Chief (Gives a hopeless, uncertain fling of his arms 
toward the stake.) 

(The Indians again start to drag the Dreamer toward the stake.) 
The Dreamer (With fearless dignity. In a calm voice) : 
You know I come here for your good. 

(The Neophyte, hearing this, runs up to the second stage and 
looks astonished. The sapling is there.) 

Second Chief (Beside himself) : 

Hear him not. This tribe will be lost. 

(Turning to the Indians and taking command.) 
Light the faggots. 

(The Indians rush to the Dreamer and the Indians on the 
second stage move towards the stake with the faggots. 
The Neophyte makes a move to guard the stake. Second 
Chief crosses left.) 

Great-Hate Chief: No! 

(Pause.) 

Wait. 

(Throwing the Second Chief to the ground. Turning to the 
Dreamer.) 

High Priest (Pointing to the Maiden-of-the-Gentle-People) : 
Behold the maiden, in the grove. 
Love has entered your heart and made a home 
for Conscience. Now, art thou the Great- 
Love Chief. 

Neophyte (Calls aloud) : 

See! See! A sapling grows. 

(All gaze in awe. He runs down to the Dreamer and bends 
low in reverence.) 

Second Chief (Seeing all is lost, draws his dagger and rushes 
at the Dreamer.) 

Neophyte (Wards off the blow and kills the Second Chief, who 
falls at the feet of the Dreamer) : 
Evil is dead! 

53 



High Priest (Looking up the hill. The Love-Woman appears) : 
Behold the Love- Woman! 
Praise her, O my People! 

(The Love-Woman enters. She descends the trail. The waters 
of the water-fall burst outs in volume. The flowers spring 
up at her feet. All is radiant light around her. The Water- 
Women leap from the stream and make her train. With 
every step she dispels the forest gloom. The Great Chief 
starts up the hill ta meet her, by his side the Maiden-of-the- 
Gentle-People. They are in a trance of love, and the flowers 
grow and make a zvay for them. The waters flow freely over 
the rocks. The Indians look on in amazement, while they 
sing their acclaim. When the Chief and the Maiden come 
to the Love-Woman, she vanishes. She has gone to live 
again in the Holy Pool and grant love to the Grove. 

The Chief, now the Great-Love Chief, turns to the Maiden- 
of-the-Gentle-People, takes her in his arms and gives her the 
pure kiss of love. Then do the waters rush over the Sacred 
Rock and splash, in torrent, into the Holy Pool. Then is 
the forest far more brilliant in its light than before the com- 
ing of Hate. Then dawn appears and the forest is illumined.) 



54 



SYNOPSIS OF THE MUSIC 



The prelude to the Forest Play "Nec-Natama" introduces sev- 
eral of the motifs of the Prologue. Commencing with four bars 
of the Torture Theme, given out by the wood wind, in chromatic 
triplets and accompanied by strident chords on the strings; it 
lifts directly into the Fellowship motif into which the Love Theme 
is interwoven later. 

The first number in the Prologue is the Torture Dance. The 
principal melody of this is played by oboes and clarinets, to which 
the trumpets, muted, add effect. 

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The second theme, the Fellowship Theme, is the principal motif 
of the play. The first ten measures is given to the flutes and 
oboes and the theme is aftenvards taken up by the violins and 
cellos and finally worked up into a grand crescendo by the full 
orchestra. 




55 



The Fellowship Theme is interrupted by the Torture Theme, 
played as in the prelude. 

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The Torture Dance is heard again, this time played in a more 
forceful manner by the cornets and trombones, muted, and then 
almost directly begins the Love Theme zvhich, with the Fellow- 
ship Theme, is predominant throughout the play. This theme 
is played at first by the violins and cellos and later made broader 
by the addition of the wood wind choir and brass. The harp is 
also prominent in the rendition of this theme. 






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Just when the Love Theme appears to be nearing a triumphant 
climax it is interrupted by the Hate Theme, played first by the 
French horns in unison and later by the full brass contingent, 
punctuated by an occasional crash on the cymbal. 

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The play proper commences with twenty-two bars of the Love 
Theme played by the full orchestra. As this theme diminuendoes 
it is taken up by the violins and becomes the introduction to the 
Grove Song. In this Grove Song the Fellowship Theme is used 
as a counter-melody. 



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77z£ Prayer and Lament is written for tenor and chorus, part 
of which is sung "a capello" and later accompanied by a full 
orchestra. 



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The Ceremony of the Stake is an Indian melody, rendered by 
the English horn, clarionets and bassoons with an accompaniment 
of cellos and basses pizzicato, tympanis and drums. 



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57 



The Dance of the Water Spirits opens with a cadenza for 
•flutes with accompaniment for harp. The first half of the dance 
is played entirely by the wood wind, principally flutes, and accom- 
panied by the harp and strings pizzicato. As the dance pro- 
gresses a solo-horn joins in the melody with a counter rhythm 
by the violins. The second half is a legato melody for cellos and 
English horn. 




58 



The Great Hate Chief's march scored f.f. for full orchestra. 



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77*£ />/ay concludes with the Love Theme, this time uninter- 
rupted by the Hate Theme. It is brought to a triumphant end 
by full orchestra with triumphant chords. 



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